April 25th
by stupidsexyprussia
Summary: They say time heals all wounds. It's been years, and the pain hasn't faded. A young nation struggles to deal with the aftermath of war.


**A/N**

**Bleh. I don't even know what this is but oh well. I was having patriotic feels, so enjoy some Australia angst.**

**-Louise**

* * *

"Christian."

Australia heard the voice, but it sounded far away and unimportant compared to the roaring in his ears. He hadn't slept in days, his mind a mess of gunfire and fallen soldiers. It was 1953 and the war was long-since over, but the wounds remained.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and groggily he lifted his head. In another lifetime he might've worried for the unruly mess that was his hair or the red-rimmed irises that showed weakness he tried so hard not to let shine through. Now he just stared, too defeated to care.

"Christian, can you hear me?" Slowly, Australia blinked. There was a man touching him, a man with curly blonde hair and glasses and aching kindness written all over his soft face, but Australia could barely remember his own name let alone this one's.

"Y- yeah." He mumbled, shaking his head to clear it. _Canada_. The name pierced his consciousness and he breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that he had remembered. "Matt. Sorry 'bout the mess. I wasn't really expecting anyone to pay me a visit." He said, scraping back the chair and getting shakily to his feet. He noticed for the first time the state his kitchen was in. Bottles lay upturned on the table and discarded on the floor, too many to count. A quick look to the clock told him it was well past midnight. The day was over. It was the 26th. How long had he been asleep?

"I'm sorry I'm late." Canada said softly, his hand never leaving Australia's shoulder. A red poppy pin shone on his breast pocket, and the sight of it was enough to bring back all the painful memories he'd been trying to bury since the dawn service.

"You didn't have to come all the way down here just for me, Matthew." Christian replied, "The 25th is just another day for the rest of you, after all." He scooped up the bottles on the table, gathering them into his arms and stalking towards the garbage bin under the sink. He was embarrassed at the state he was in – here was a nation much older than he was who had been through much more than two wars. A few measly air raids by the Japs.

And yet.

The World Wars had devastated his country. Figures bounced around in his mind. _During the Second World War, 39,767_ _members of the Australian military were either killed, died of wounds or died while prisoners of war. _

Thirty-nine thousand, seven hundred and sixty-seven of his people dead in just a few years of conflict. Hardly a dint in the massive population of America or England, but more than a third of his own. He felt their pain, the ones who had died instantly and the ones who had suffered in Japanese prison camps, the men and women lost at sea. On April 25th, the anniversary of the day where during his first battle, Australia had lost so much. To the rest of the world, he and his brother nation, New Zealand, had become their own that day. The ANZACs were resilient, brave-faced and willing to fight, something that had surprised the elder nations. Australia remembered that doomed attack on the beaches of Gallipoli, where he felt bullets tearing through his chest again and again. Where he watched his men fall, pointless deaths because of a miscommunication from the British.

He still hadn't completely forgiven Britain for that day. He couldn't remember if his brother had even apologised.

"We recognise it, Christian. You know we do."

Anger flared in Australia's chest. "The world cheers with America on the fourth of July, but my soldiers and nurses are forgotten, Matthew. It's been years and we haven't recovered. My people were forgotten before the wars. They deserve more."

Canada smiled sadly at him. "We aren't always the most considerate of people, Christian. Invite the world to remember what you've lost, and they will cry with you." Then Australia _was_ crying, his tears making rivers on his cheeks and dripping into the sink. His shoulders shook and Canada quickly wrapped an arm around them, holding him together.

"I'm being bloody stupid." He muttered. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Digger slumped on the table, the damned Koala yawning and rubbing at his eyes. He wondered where Bailey was. "Why'd you come?"

Canada shrugged, patting Australia's back. "Arthur called. He said you might need a friend after the service. Besides, we are family after all." Memories of the midday barbeque floated to the surface of Australia's mind. England and New Zealand had been there, as well as a few other nations that had made the trek for the event. Australia remembered laughter, drinking and then, after the others had left, tears. He had held onto Bailey, their foreheads pressed together as they waited out the pain that always came with the day. April 25th was never easy for them.

"Arthur has no bloody idea how to handle ANZAC Day, does he?" Hollow laughter escaped him, and Canada joined in.

"He's never been good at apologies or acknowledging difficult things, no."

Slowly, the pain was beginning to ebb. He felt stronger, ready to move on from yet another dark day in the world's history. The darkest day in his own. Australia sighed. "I'm sorry you had to fly all the way down just to clean up my mess, Matt."

Canada shook his head. "My flight back doesn't leave for another two weeks. I figured I'd take the chance to spend some time getting to know your culture a little better."

"I hope you're planning to have a spell in New Zealand too, mate. Bailey will get pissy if he thinks you're just here for little ol' me."

"Where is he, anyway?" Canada asked, sneaking a look around the living area. Australia gestured at the stairs.

"Sleeping, probably. Things are a little fuzzy, but I think I remember putting him to bed. I can drink him under the table, as is proven every time we get together." Australia realises he is smiling. He might not be one hundred per cent yet, but he's one step closer. For every year he makes it through it proves he's strong enough to endure. The great nation of Australia was one to be reckoned with during the wars, and he isn't defeated just yet. His family believed in him – Canada was proof enough of that, his eyes filled with understanding behind his glasses.

"I'm still waiting for the day you and Germany or Prussia get together for a match." Canada grinned, patting Australia's shoulder. "You going to be okay?"

Australia felt Digger climb up his leg and perch on his shoulder. He scratched the little bastard underneath his chin. "Yeah, mate." He nodded, pulling Canada into a one-armed hug in return, "I'll be just fine."


End file.
